It’s about time we had a caption competition in Key’s Cupboard, so here is a caption competition… with a difference!
The twist is that you are actually given the caption, and the challenge is to attribute it correctly, and to devise a suitable rejoinder.
The photograph above shows a Spanish conquistador in conversation with a Capuchin monkey. Using skill, judgement, and an encyclopaedic knowledge of both 1970s German cinema and monkeys, decide which of the protagonists is speaking. When you are satisfied that you have arrived at the right answer, the next step is to devise an appropriate, and credible, reply.
A prize of untold wealth in gold will be awarded to the most brain-dazzling entry. Please note that Dabbler editors, writers, readers, their friends, relatives, and acquaintances are ineligible.
Well I think we can establish, first off, that it’s clearly the monkey that’s saying “I am the wrath of God…” There’s no exclamation mark, so the line is delivered in a matter-of-fact way, not in the terrible cry suggested by the chap’s pained expression.
My guess is that the man replies: “Arrgh, this damn helmet keeps obscuring my vision!”, ignoring completely the monkey’s preposterous claim.
I think the ‘Spanish Conquistador’ says it and the monkey replies, “Whatever. By the way, you don’t look at all Spanish – are the Wraths a germanic people?”.
This question, seemingly straightforward, is in fact of labyrinthine complexity – and for a shed load of oro I expected nothing less from Frank. Brit is wide of the mark, because everybody knows that even in 16th Century Amazonian America, monkeys couldn’t talk – at least not to Basque nutters. The Krautrock roadie is pontificating to nobody in particular, as is his wont (as I said, he is a nutter). The little ring-tailed primate is trying to tell him, in that distinctive squeeky delivery, that he too is a boss-man in his firmament, lording it over an extended family of Little Minx girlie-chimps, and that if they could ‘put their heads together on this one’ (which came out as a long squeek), the chances of finding the El Doradan gold that would form the prize in this quiz, would be greatly increased. As I remember, the helmeted-one-who-must-be-obeyed-or-he-has-a-fit, only listened to the sound of his own voice, and casting the little cebus into the drink, went off to kill his own daughter lest the ragamuffins he was commanding should seek comfort in her embrace.
Shall I collect the yellow metal, or do you deliver?
The little furry one replies:
“Perdoneme, senor, but you seem to have the wrong simian: I declined to be fitted with the mandatory ObamaCare microchip, otherwise known as the Mark of the Beast, and am therefore quite safe from the Wrath of God.”
All explained in a thoughtful article here (“the Bible says those take the 666 Microchip will receive the Wrath of God…”).
It’s the monkey speaking. The Helmut in a helmet on the left is angry because he’s just realised that you can’t make mobile phone calls on a monkey.
or perhaps you can make mobile phone calls on a monkey and he’s got the monkey on speakerphone and he’s shouting into the phone because it’s a bad line and his mum can’t hear him
It’s an early iMonkey 3G – you have to get the grip right to receive a decent signal.
Merkel (left) to Sarkozy “I am the wrath of God, and the wrath of Germany, and their ain’t much difference, mate. Just remember which one of us is the organ grinder around here. You’re getting too jumped up. Mind you, when you’re not wearing your platforms you need to – jump up, that is. Haha.”
Sorry, Frank, I should have stuck with conquistadors.
Or perhaps the monkey is Helmut’s dentist – a little monkey-dentist, and this is his way of getting patients to open wide so he can take a peek at the gnashers. “That’s it, now say “I am the wraaaaaaaaaaaath…..”
” I can’t swim across the lake. My codpiece will go rusty “
According to Wittgenstein’s posit, if animals could talk, we wouldn’t understand them. Therefore the conquistador is having a psychotic episode. The monkey, meanwhile, is singing; “you’ll say tom-ay-toe, they’ll say tom-ah-toe, and you’ll say po-tay-toe, and they’ll say pot-ah-toe…”
The monkey refutes this and argues that his wife is actually the Wrath of God.
God? God? wrath? where the f..k did Herzog find you, mush?
Any chance of a date with your Nastassja then?
Great to see the return of the wrath of Malty. I was worried you’d fallen off a mountain!
Clearly, the monkey is speaking.
The conquistador’s reply must surely be, “No, señor, usted es un mono capuchino!”